#he wants love. he wants his daughter back. he wants to at least know what happened to her

[warmilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 4- Can't hurt the Signal

*another huge timeskip

______________________________

After a few moments your shock dies down and you've accepted you've become a public figure

Then Duke walks in...

Duke walks in-

Duke.

Holy shit Duke is here!

He looks at you confused, of course they didn't introduce you "Hey.. you uhmm" he says awkwardly

"Oh I'm Bruce's other biological kid, but I'm a civilian, nice to meet you, so you're signal right?" You smile

"How...?"

"a new vigilante appears, Bruce gets another kid, come on, it's not rocket science"

"Oh! Good morning then! I'm actually pretty new to this thing and I'm a meta!" He smiles and sits right in front of you

Wow he's shining....

Mission #1359: Hurt Duke's feelings

A neglected reader is brash, she is reluctant to interact with her family members, she is jealous when Duke, someone who hasn't been in the family that long is accepted and loved, but you aren't

Time: till the end of breakfast

Penalty: Electrocution

"(Name)! This is you right!? Oh gosh, I've been hearing about you before Bruce got me!" He looks at the newspaper "see... Im- I'm an orphan-"

"Aren't half of you are?" You say

"y-yeah, okay, I actually work at daytime-"

"I know I saw you, so... How'd you end up here?"

"Like I said... I was an orphan, I actually had a pretty normal childhood, just uhm- can we not talk about this?" His eyes wince, you know that look, the pain is still raw

You can't press in, you know how he got here, you know how he lost his parents, and you can't

When you lost your Mom, you just wanted to forget about it, sure it was unhealthy but it was easier, you were lucky that the Waynes didn't care whether you were okay mentally and left you alone, they care about Duke and you can't make Duke face this

Fuck the penalty

"it was nice to meet you Duke" you go to your bedroom

"system?"

Yes?

"I can't do it- just give it to me"

Really? Very well

This was fine, it's not like it'll kill you, what's a second time being electrocuted? Right?

______________________________

"oh god!? Miss (Name), what happened you look like you got electrocuted!" Alfred grabs a hair brush and fixes your hair

"(Name)! Let's go! We'll be late for school!" Duke waves his hands, inside the car with Damian, Tim and Cass with Jason driving....

Fuck no.

You look away and continue walking, but a hand grabs the back of your jacket and pushes you inside the car "quit acting up" Dick smiled, but you can see annoyance in those eyes

"I'm not acting up!? When have I taken the car?!" You glare and pull away from him "Just get in." He grips your arm alarmingly tight and you're sure it's going to bruise

Duke tilts his head, are you two fighting? You and Dick feel his gaze and both of you reluctantly smile at each other

"You fucking bitch what the fuck are you doing?" You ask, Jason hears and turns around "You kiss your mother with that mouth?", you raise your brow "At least my mother loved me enough to kiss me"

"Just start the car Jay, don't mind the anchor" Damian glares

Well the facade of a happy family you and Dick tried to put is long gone, you hope that when they explain to Duke later they won't twist their words

Speaking of Duke, He looks confused, "What's wrong?, Did something happen?"

Mission 1360: BE SILENT

I can't believe I have to turn this into a mission, but a neglected reader should be silent, scared and obedient towards the family, I have been accepting of your crass attitude since it doesn't affect the missions, but what it does affect is the story, DO NOT TRY TO DEFEND YOURSELF

Time: the car ride

Penalty: Electrocution

"Maybe because the Princess here should just stop running her mouth, we're taking her in, but all she gave back is nothing. She's a bitch who thinks that all of us here are nothing but mental patients that belong in Arkham", Jason's grip on the wheels tighten

Fuck the mission, you're on a failing streak and you'd like to keep it

"And by the way you snap bones like they're sticks, say you hate criminals but befriend a drug addict, you do belong in Arkham" you feel bad about talking about Roy that way, Jason's probably not even sure how you knew about Roy

You feel the car start to run faster, he's not actually going to crash a car with the people he cares about right? You look around and see out of everyone in this car

If it does crash.

You're the only one who can't save yourself.

"Jason stop!" You hear Duke shout, and the car stops immediately, it would send you out of your seat if not for your seatbelt

"This is why I didn't wanna ride the car" you glare at them, you hide your hands inside the pockets of your jacket so they wouldn't see them shaking

You see that you're a block away from school and you take the chance to get the hell out of the car, "Wait! (Name)!" Duke yells, he turns to his family "What's going on!?"

______________________________

You didn't go to school yet.

You run into an empty alley, why?

Mission failed

That's why.

It's unhealthy that you are slowly starting to get used to the Electrocution

You pant and hold your heart and you sit down on the dirty concrete floor, your head is buzzing and your sweaty, your hands are shaking and you can see small zaps of electricity, you bit into your arm to muffle your screams

What the fuck are you doing, are you seriously choosing Electrocution over being insulted!?

"Didn't you want the hate meter to go up? Oh well it's UP!" You say

Not Duke's, he pities you

"You didn't say Duke was a part of this?, I thought it was only those guys!?"

That's why you needed to insult him earlier! So when you get insulted and called a bitch in the car, he'd understand you needed to be hated! But because you didn't, he now feels sorry for you and thinks the family is against you!

"The family is against me! Hello?? That's the main point of the story!"

Just- do you want the special reward or not?

"I don't even know what the special reward is!"

I can't tell you! Plus... Something's going to happen, one that can either make the hate meter go up or down, not to mention... There's a possibility the neglected reader can gain love, you can't let that happen, you'll lose the reward

"Whatever, their hatred meter is almost 100 anyway..."

But Duke can change that. You have to make him hate you as well, got it?

"Got it. Just promise me this 'special reward' is worth all of this"

It's worth more than all of this

You forgot about the newspaper.

"(Name)! You're a Wayne!??" One of your classmates came up to you

"Haha... Yeah" you laugh awkwardly

Another classmate goes near you "Why don't you use Bruce's surname?"

"Because I wanted to preserve my mom's memory" you smile

"why have I never seen you in one of the gala's

"I don't like parties" that's a lie you love them, you just don't get invited

The whole day was just you answering questions, you're partly grateful because the crowd prevented Duke to get you alone and talk about the shit show that happened in the car

When you thought it was over... You get called to the principal's office

"Miss (Name), would you like to be a student ambassador?"

(in my school, a student ambassador are students who promote the school, aka the kids you see in posters every time you see a "back to school" bill board)

"Why..?" You ask him

"Well... You are a charitable student, you're social and have good morals! You're already a model student" he says

You smile at him "Sir... I don't do this to be recognized, thank you for your offer but I'm afraid I'd have to decline"

You declined because when Dick was at school he was an ambassador, and right now so is Tim

You don't understand why he still goes to school, that guy is already the CEO

______________________________

Bruce looks at the newspaper

"helping others for years without her family knowing" he repeats

How did he not see this? Why didn't he notice that you've been helping Gotham out of your own pocket? The visits to the orphanage, the tutoring of children in poor neighborhoods

He feels guilty because he thought you were some spoiled kid who asked for too much

Now he's dreading you may have been right, the conversation two years ago...

"you're doing your best to make your already family comfortable by pretending I'm not here"

Oh god... Has he attended anything regarding you? Did he hold birthday galas for you?

He didn't

And by the way things are looking

You're perfectly fine without them.

He needs to change that

______________________________

Bruce feels like a failure.

Over the past three years he has failed to make any sort of connection with you, you seemed to be avoiding him?

And every time he does get ahold of you, you piss him off, he has to remind himself every time that he failed you as a father and he shouldn't give up on you

He tried calling you to his office and talking it out with you, he apologized for the way he treated you and that he regrets his actions but all he got was

"Do you think apologizing can make up for the years of neglect? And your children hate me, you're not going to risk them hating you as well by being nice to me, and you started this 'ignoring me' me thing, don't quit now" then you left his office

He tried throwing you a birthday party for your 13th, but you were nowhere to be found, at first he was angry, he placed so much effort into the gala only for you to not show up, you showed up late in the night and said you were out swimming with your friends, Bruce tried to yell at you, saying that you should've told him before going out and about somewhere

Then you said "How was I supposed to know you were going to celebrate my birthday? You never celebrated it before?"

Then you refused to spend your 15th with the family, specially after the incident at your 14th birthday party

Where Damian hid a small non-harming explosive in the cake and when you blew the candles out it exploded

He was going to scold Damian for that, but Barbara chimed in that this is the first time Damian played a prank and acted like a kid, was Bruce really going to punish him for having fun?

Bruce knew you had a violin concert, you invited no one but Alfred and Duke, at least you and Duke are getting along

He mourned the fact of not being able to attend your previous concerts, he bought tickets for him and the family

They were going to watch you

You were so talented... And too independent, too much of his liking, you were also kind and smart and people liked you

And he likes you too as well, you're his baby, his daughter

And he's going to do whatever to make you apart of this family

______________________________

Bruce: -100%

"Why the fuck does his hatred meter keep on going down????? What the fuck is happening?!?"

This is a problem

"Oh you think!?" You cry at the system

______________________________

Bruce: my daughter I'm sorry, let's be a family

Reader: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO HIS HATRED METER

______________________________

@plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist

[marsmaximoff]

🥀; the other side of the coin 𓇢𓆸 𐦍

content warning: wife!reader. angst. cheating. i do not specify which emperor you're with, as the situation applies to both. so feel free to choose the one you prefer. anticlimactic ending, kinda?

word count: 480

author's note: i had this idea in bed, before falling asleep. i've tried to use a fitting english given the time period, but i don’t know if i succeeded. it is my third language so i’m sorry for the mistakes. constructive criticism is welcomed. happy 2025 everyone!!!!! enjoyy 🩷🩵

“are you well?” her tone of voice, caring as it constantly is with me, now carries a hint of worry.

“why? what happened?” lucilla sits by my side on the golden divan. “nothing. just in general.” “do i not look well? is it my eye bags? am i wrinkling?” the last thing i need is having to sit through more of those comments about my sorrowful appearance not meeting my status. ‘for the wife of the emperor must appear graceful, delighted, along with content at all occasions’. a symbol of my luck and my gratitude for it.

“you look beautiful, as always.” “don’t scare me like that.” the question, though inoffensive, had not failed to unease me. “you’re more than a face, you know.” a scoff leaves my mouth, “in this palace?” however, as i dwell on it, i realize the truth of such comment. “i am a face and a body.”

we hold hands, a motherly gesture i am so accustomed to. despite not being her daughter, i cannot think of a single day she has not treated me like one.

“how are you dealing with your husband’s…. lustful tendencies?” she has always been quite an outspoken woman, the query amuses me. “you’re saying that like i didn’t know it before marrying him.” i was warned right at the very beginning, the emperors' carnal nature being one of my first lessons. and yet, “it hurts.” her gaze reveals pity and compassion. “i don’t know why.” oh, but i do. i just hate admitting it. besides, such cravings must be kept to oneself.

the soft caress of her thumbs grounds me. a silent reassurance, an invitation to confide. i decide to take advantage of our solitude and finally pour my heart out. “i guess i wanted my husband to stay loyal to me.” what an absurd thought for an empress. “as childish as it sounds”, i add, aware of my impossible desire. i am conscious of his affection. he loves me, in his own way, that is. at the end of the day, solely one person cannot provide it all. right? it is merely a custom; i am no one to judge.

“i am happy for you.” never jealous. only slightly envious, perhaps. “your relationship with the general looks… real.” memories surround me, and i recall all those times he has come back from his victorious missions with her as his only concern. not the emperors, or the people. not even the following conquests. her alone. meeting his wife after so long. spending time together. “genuine.” the way his eyes sparkle when she is around -as if she were the only woman in the world-, the warmth that envelopes their conversations, and his chivalrous behavior only those who love someone so tenderly have mastered.

“i’m happy there’s at least someone in this damned palace that gets to know true love.”

[birlemsbae]

────୨ৎ──── bring home the babies .ᐟ

someone requested this a WHILE AGO and i never did it … (deepest apologies to that person 🙏)

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

finding out you were pregnant was not on your bucket list for this year.

you were twenty-two, still in college trying to get your degree, paying for you and matt’s apartment through a minimum wage job. you barely have time for matt, how the fuck were you supposed to take care of a kid?

matt was over the moon. he had always dreamt of being a dad. having a mini him was just something he always wanted. you too, honestly. you wanted to becomes a mom so bad.

having a daughter was the best thing you could ever think of. having a mini you running around that you could teach everything too was just something you wanted so bad. you even could dress her up in cute outfits!

however, at twenty-two you’re just getting started with life. so when you and matt found out you were pregnant, you weren’t the happiest. at first at least.

the first three months of your pregnancy, had to be the worst things you could possibly go through.

morning sickness was just kicking your ass. throwing up your guys was just something you didn’t know if you could do everyday. and it was everyday. you didn’t know you had enough stomach fluid to even throw it up and then regenerate it back.

matt was there through your every move. he would hold your hair back whenever you’d throw up. he’d rub your back and tell you that everything was okay and he was there.

he even went as far as to watch a tutorial on how to braid hair so he could braid your hair at night so it wouldn’t be in your face in the mornings.

“matt, please you don’t have to do this.” you would protest, but he would never let you win.

“i’m doing this, you’re gonna thank me in the morning, babe.” and you sure did. everytime.

it’s one of those moments where you’re extremely grateful for matt. he just tries his hardest to make you genuinely happy. he loves seeing you happy. whether he’s surprising you with flowers, or braiding your hair at night. the little favors he does, mean the world to you.

you had your gender reveal in september. you and matt had already known it was a boy for the longest time but your entire family was hard at waiting.

you had the most beautiful scenery. white tulips every where, the grass was the perfect shade of green for the fall time. it was just perfect. it wasn’t cold but it wasn’t hot outside it was just perfect.

when you did reveal to everyone that you were having a boy, everyone went ballistic.

“i’m really gonna be an uncle to a little boy!” nick exclaimed with excitement.

“i’m gonna teach it how to pick up all the girls with my nasty pick-up lines.” chris said.

“alright buddy, let’s at least wait til his here to do that.” matt would clap back.

marylou and your mom were so excited they got you so many gifts for the baby. they got you diapers, pacifiers, clothes, everything you could’ve asked for.

when it came time for birth, no lie, you were actually so scared. you didn’t know if he was gonna rip your vagina like you had seen with these other moms. where they had to get stitches and other work done. you laid in the hospital bed with those exact same thoughts.

“what if he rips my pussy in half?” you asked matt.

“what? babe your overthinking again. i promise everything is going to go totally fine. your not gonna rip in half. and if you do, it’s two more holes for me to fill, hm?” he smirked.

“oh my god, you can’t take anything serious!!” you laugh at him and nudge his shoulder.

labor wasn’t as bad as you thought. you had gotten the epidural and you couldn’t really feel anything. just the way you liked it. your baby boy was born on october 27th, at 9:21pm.

holding your baby for the first time was a different kind of love. you held him like he was a fragile trophy and everything about him was perfect.

the nurses scurried him away to get cleaned and changed and you were just excited to get away from all the pain. your first meal was your favorite, and matt made sure to get it as soon as you asked.

the nurses brought him back all cleaned and changed into his first outfit. a navy blue newborn onesie with elephants on it.

“oh my god, he’s perfect.” you looked up at matt, who was already looking at him and pointing at all his features.

“he has your beautiful eyes.” he said. “and god look at all that hair.”

“guess all that heartburn was worth it.” you laughed.

a few days after he was born, everyone came to see him. your mom, marylou, nick, chris, jimmy, justin, all your friends and family. everyone. and everyone kept asking the same question.

“are you gonna tell us his name already?”

you and matt just looked at eachother and smiled and knew today was the day.

“alright alright. we will tell you his name,” everyone looked at the both of you with listening ears on. you nodded for him to proceed.

“his name is oliver james sturniolo.” matt said. everyone was ‘oooing’ and ‘aaaaaahing’ at the name.

you and matt knew you made the right choice then.

days and days went by in the hospital and you thought you were in there forever. until it was time to go home. you could finally bring your baby home.

“alright little man let’s get you in this car seat.” matt said to the baby while you packed everything up.

“let’s go, little ollie.”

“ollie?” matt asked. “already got a nickname for ‘em?”

“yes actually!” you said and he just laughed.

the car ride home was peaceful and quiet. “he’s definitely not a crier.” matt laughed.

“thank god.” you replied.

opening the doors finally. not pregnant but with your newborn and your faithful husband.

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 1 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x single mom reader

notes: probably going to make this into a mini series because i have too many ideas to fit them in 1 fic. enjoy

y/n was walking into her apartment when her mom called, telling her how worried she was.

"mom, will you relax? i'm going to be fine. it's safer for me out here anyway." y/n walked into her apartment and set her keys down on the counter. her daughter took her shoes off and ran to her bedroom.

"have you met any of your neighbors yet, sweetie?"

"no, mom. i haven't met anyone in the building yet and i don't plan on it any time soon. i've been really busy with work and stuff and just haven't had the time nor the interest in doing so. plus, you know how abby is with strangers."

"i would feel better if you made at least one friend, dear. you're all alone in vancouver. anything could happen to you."

"what if i meet the wrong person, mom? ever think about that?"

"that doesn't worry me because i know you'll trust your instincts."

"and that's why i haven't bothered to talk to anyone in the building yet. besides, it's only my first week here. there's still plenty of time."

"okay fine. but i want you to keep me updated at all times."

"yes ma'am." y/n switched the phone from one ear to the other. there was a knock on the door and she jumped. "i gotta go mom. dinner's here."

"alright. love you sweetie. give abby a kiss for me."

"will do. love you too. bye." she hung up the phone and opened the door. "about time. i'm starving." she looked up from her wallet. "wait, you're not the pizza guy."

"no, i am not. my name is quinn and i live across the hall there." he turned and pointed to the door behind him. "i noticed you just moved in recently and i thought i'd be neighborly and come say hi, see if you needed any help with anything."

"that's very kind of you, quinn. but so far, i've got things handled. thank you though."

"well, if you ever need my help with anything, you know where to find me." he smiled and turned back towards his own apartment. just as y/n was about to shut her door, quinn turned back around. "i'm sorry. i completely forgot to ask for your name."

"it's y/n."

"mommy, i'm hungry." abby came up to y/n and looked at her.

"i know, sweetie. the pizza should be here shortly."

"okay. i'll be in my room." the girl turned around and headed down the hallway.

"she's adorable. how old is she?"

"she's 5, almost 6."

"they're always the cutest at that age." quinn smiled. "well, it was nice to finally meet you, y/n. see you later." he waved and entered his own apartment, leaving y/n to finally close her door.

"hey, abby. want a snack to hold you over until dinner gets here?"

"yes please." abby came out of her room to grab a snack from her bucket and headed back to play with her dolls.

y/n was about to send a text to her mom, letting her know she finally met a neighbor, when there was another knock on her door.

"this better be the pizza." she opened the door and saw quinn standing there holding a pizza box.

"they brought it to the wrong apartment. but don't worry. it's paid for. the guy didn't have time to walk across the hall so i paid him."

"you really didn't have to do that, quinn. but thank you." y/n accepted the pizza and looked at him. "would you maybe want to come in for a slice or two?"

"sure." quinn followed y/n into her apartment and sat on one of the stools at the island.

"abby, dinner's ready."

"yay. pizza!" the little girl yelled and ran out of her room. she stopped in her tracks when she saw quinn. "hi."

"hello."

"quinn, this is my daughter abigail. sweetheart, this is quinn. he lives across the hall."

"do you have kids?"

"no. not yet."

"how old are you?"

"i'm 24."

"oh, so is mommy. she just had a birthday."

"did you really?" quinn turned his attention from abby to y/n.

"no." y/n set the plates down on the island and helped abby into her chair. "well, i didn't just have a birthday. it's been a few months now."

"oh. well i'll be 25 next month."

"in case i don't see you, happy birthday." y/n smiled and began eating her slice of pizza.

"thank you." quinn smiled back and looked at abby,

"shit." y/n pulled her ringing phone out of her pocket and answered it. "hello? yeah. i'll be right there." she hung up and looked at quinn. "i barely know you but i just got called into work for an emergency and abby's normal sitter is busy tonight. would you mind-"

"go to work. i'll watch your daughter."

"you are a lifesaver quinn." y/n ran to her room to get ready. she came out 5 minutes later. "this is crazy. it's my first night off and i was hoping to relax but of course there's an emergency when the hospital is short-staffed."

"oh, you work at the hospital? how are you liking it?"

"it keeps me busy and pays well. but it's a very demanding job. i don't get to spend as much time with abby as i would like."

"that's alright, mom. i understand."

"i love you, sweetheart. now, be on your best behavior for quinn. if you're good, we can get you some new toys this weekend. how's that sound?"

"like an easy task." abby smiled and looked at quinn.

"okay great. thanks again, quinn." y/n smiled and walked out the door.

"alright, abby. what do you want to do?"

"dolls, makeover, tea party?"

"sounds like fun. shall we add music?"

"yes! dance party! mommy never has time for one."

"then we shall have one." quinn went on his music app and put on some popular music that was age appropriate and followed abby to her room to get the makeover started.

after a few hours of playtime, they settled down and quinn put on a random disney movie. abby cuddled up to his side and fell asleep within the first 20 minutes.

when the movie was finished, quinn put on another one and waited for y/n to get home.

he was halfway through the third movie when y/n walked through the door.

"i am so sorry. it took a lot longer than i thought but-" she stopped when quinn put his finger to his lips to shush her. "awe look at that. she must really like you."

"why do you think that?"

"she never falls asleep for anyone other than me. and she loves her usual sitter."

"oh." quinn smiled and adjusted his legs as y/n picked abby up.

"mommy?" abby rubbed her eyes and when she saw it was her mom, she just cuddled into her more.

y/n put abby in her bed and made sure she went back to sleep before she headed back to quinn.

"thank you so much for doing this. i didn't expect to get called into work tonight." she went to hand quinn some money but he stopped her.

"you don't have to pay me. i had a lot of fun."

"was she good?"

"very good. and such a polite child."

"what did you guys do?"

"after you left, we played with her barbies for about half an hour. and when she got bored of that, we had a tea party and then she did my 'makeup'." quinn chuckled. "oh. and we had a mini dance party before i put on some movies for her to settle down to. she was out within the first 20 minutes."

"well, sounds like you had a good time and honestly, i can't thank you enough for watching her. i owe you."

"it's fine. like i said, i had fun. consider that my payment."

"you're the best." y/n walked with quinn out into the hall. he walked up to his door and looked back.

"if i'm not busy & you ever need someone to watch abby, i would be more than happy to do it."

"really? oh my gosh. you really are the sweetest person i've ever met."

"what can i say? my mother raised me right." quinn flashed her a smile and opened his door. "good night, y/n."

"good night, quinn."

[solavita]

ultraviolence — sylus (l&d)

pairing ; sylus x fem!reader

words ; 4.0k

synopsis ; you were married to sylus because of an arranged pact he had with your father. and it seemed as if there was nothing you could do to get his attention.

warning(s) ; smut (18+), darkish themes, mentions of crime, mentions of sex, power play, manipulation/power dynamics, THIGH RIDING, themes of voyeurism and mild exhibitionism, fake relationship (basically), arranged marriage.

chapter ; 1/? (i might write more if ppl want it)

a/n ; i'm new to this fandom . . . . sorry if my lore isn't correct but also um. yeah! hi. sylus brainworms.

You were convinced that you were going to be in this golden cage forever. 

Ever since you had been married off to the leader of Onlychinus for your family to exchange your life for a significant amount of money for their access to exclusive protocores, you hadn’t had much of a life of your own besides the four walls of the huge mansion where you now resided. Sure, you were given a life of luxury that almost no one in the N109 would even dream of having, and you had more money than you would ever need, but the one thing that you wanted seemed so abysmal for a person like you. You’d always been primed to be sold off to the highest bidder and yet for some reason you thought the man you would’ve married would at least be there. 

But the only time you saw your husband was the meal in the morning and the meal at night, sometimes not even then. It was like he was keen on pretending that you didn’t exist, and it was beginning to drive you insane. This was not how you wanted your life to be for the future, no matter how many ‘gifts’ he seemed to give you while he was courting you, or how the servants were forever indebted to you. Was he seeing someone else? He was gone for long hours, sometimes into the night . . . Was he truly just not interested in you? 

It made your blood boil. Your blood pressure was at an all time high whenever you even began to think about it. 

You were friends with multiple women that you had known since birth, all daughters of the N109 zone’s elite — another name for the most influential criminals. They had all been married for longer than you, fawning over the praise and the love and attention they got from their husbands. What made you even more rageful was when they would talk about what their husbands were like in bed, always asking you what Sylus was like. After all, your wedding to him was something that made history and the gossip that surrounded you for being the woman who would get to share his bed was at an all time high. It had been two weeks since you had been married, they were itching to get even an ounce of gossip to go back and tell their families about. 

You sipped on your glass of wine, flicking at a feather that had fallen out of the intricate laces of your bodice, trying to come up with some type of deflection to get them to stop asking so many questions. “Oh, you know Sylus, he doesn’t like to have his personal life talked about,” you chided, hoping that the threat of being in his bad favor would get them to cease. Instead, it made them lean in closer, one of the younger girls giggling. 

“Come on. We won’t tell. Tell us, Y/N, what’s going on under all that black clothing? I just know he’s given you a good time,” She said in a hushed whisper. “We were surprised you could even walk when you came to the club today. The honeymoon phase is the most intense, you know.” 

You were fucked. 

How were you supposed to tell your closest friends that your wonderful husband has probably looked at you a total of five times (twice at your wedding) since you had been married? How he seems to act as if you are just another person that he can use for his whim whenever he wants to? You were certain that you didn’t even know anything about him. And he was the person you were supposed to be sharing the rest of your life with? It was infuriating. So infuriating that you eventually came up with a reason why you had to come home, having your driver come to pick you up and take you back to your shared mansion, your insufferable golden cage. 

You huffed, opening the door and shutting it with a ferocity you were not even aware you had, slamming down your handbag onto the grand table in the middle of the hall. You began to fiddle with the clasps of one of your golden bracelets. It was dark inside the house, as there was no need for all the lights to be on when there were never any guests here besides your husband's workers anyways. 

“Touchy.” 

You turned on your heel to the source of the voice, being met with the figure of your husband leaning against the doorframe. He was still wearing his outside clothing, like he just got back home himself. Dark black leathers with maroon tinged undertones colliding with the paleness of his skin, silver hair neatly pushed back. Sylus stood there, his presence commanding even in the dimly lit hallway. His unreadable eyes — piercing and cold — scanned you briefly before a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t inviting. It was something else entirely. Something that made your stomach tighten with a mix of frustration and unease. 

“You’re home,” you said curly, your voice laced with the irritation you didn’t bother to hide. “What a rare occurrence.” 

Sylus arched an eyebrow. He cocked his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I could say the same about you. Didn’t expect you back so soon from your little gathering." Your heart skipped a beat at the way his words lingered, his tone deceptively casual. He knew. He always knew. You hated how he could so easily pull the ground out from under you.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you lied smoothly, resuming your struggle with the clasp. Thought it better to come home early.” 

“Ah,” he said, stepping closer, invading your personal space that you were unsure was even yours anymore. “Funny, though. Your friends seemed to be having a . . . lively discussion about me. Or should I say, us?” 

Your hands stilled entirely, the bracelet slipping from your fingers, clinking loudly onto the table. “What are you talking about?” You asked as you shot him a glare. You assumed that he would know where you were at all times — being as controlling as he was over his assets — but there was no inclination that he would know what you were talking about. Did he always know what you were talking about with your friends? Or an even better question, how did he know? 

 "They’re quite the curious little group, aren’t they? Asking all sorts of... intimate questions."

Heat crept up your neck, a mix of anger and humiliation. You couldn’t believe that you were being cornered over something that wasn’t even your idea to bring up in the first place. And furthermore you couldn’t believe that he was willing to bring it up in the first place. It wasn’t as though he seemed to care about intimacy anyways. “It’s none of their business,” you snapped, meeting his gaze despite the flush blooming in your cheeks. “And it’s certainly none of yours.” 

“Oh, but it is my business,” he countered smoothly, his tone almost teasing. “After all, they’re speculating about me, aren’t they? Wondering what kind of husband I am. Whether I’ve been . . .” He paused, allowing for the words to simmer. “. . . attentive.” 

Your jaw clenched. He was enjoying this. Watching you squirm under his scrutiny. “If you’re so worried about appearances, maybe you should try actually being here once in a while,” you shot back, though your voice betrayed the faintest tremor. “Then people wouldn’t have to wonder.” 

He chuckled. “Oh, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You’re fiery tonight. I almost prefer you like this.” He leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “But let’s not pretend you’re worried about appearances. You’re angry because you don’t know. Isn’t that right?” 

You hated how his words cut so intricately through you, like he knew exactly what to say to make you even more irritated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, though your voice betrayed you as it was barely above a whisper. 

“No?” His gaze dipped to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to your eyes, his smirk softening into something more . . . calculated. “Then why are you blushing?” 

You took a step back, desperate to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation. “You’re insufferable,” you snapped, crossing your arms across the bodice of your dress in an attempt to shield yourself from his penetrating gaze. The anger in your chest burned hotter, fueled by his smugness, his cryptic remarks, and the undeniable pull he seemed to have over you. You stormed upstairs to your room, your heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. 

The nerve of him. He’d come home, cornered you with your own frustrations, teased you to the point of boiling over, and acted as if none of it mattered. As though you didn’t matter. The gall of the man was enough to make your blood boil — and yet, you couldn’t stop the way your heart was pounding or the heat that lingered on your skin from his proximity. 

You hated him for that. 

You hated him for making you feel anything at all. 

—

You barely got any sleep last night. It was partially because of your encounter with your husband, but also because you decided it was time to devise a plan. You would make him cave into desperation for you. You would wear your most frilliest, most revealing nightgowns to breakfast in the mornings. You’d make yourself look more appealing than ever, makeup done every day, hair perfect. Anything to make him cave first. 

You woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. But it was no matter, you had a plan now, and you weren’t going to back down. If Sylus wanted to play games, you were going to make sure you played to win. Your reflection stared back at you, confident and calculated, a far cry from the simmering frustration of the night before. Your nightgown was a delicate thing, soft and sheer, with intricate lace that hinted at everything underneath but revealed just enough to spark curiosity. It was utterly impractical, especially for breakfast, but that was precisely the point. 

You smoothed a hand over the silky fabric and inspected your work one last time. Hair perfectly styled, lips painted a tempting shade, and just the faintest touch of perfume — enough to linger without overwhelming your target. 

Sylus was already there, seated at the head of the table, his posture relaxed as he sipped his morning coffee. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, his red eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked over you. For a fraction of a second, his gaze lingered on your nightgown, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. It was small enough that perhaps he thought you wouldn’t notice. But you had a long history of deciphering men’s faces. You suppressed a smile. 

Got him. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, your tone light and airy as you took your seat across the table at the other head, like it was a normal morning. Except this time, you made a point to adjust your nightgown enough to reveal the expanse of your collarbone. 

“Good morning,” he replied, his voice steady, though his gaze was sharpened. He set his coffee down and leaned back in his chair, studying you with a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued. “You’re up early.” 

You sighed, like it was something trivial. “Couldn’t sleep,” you said breezily, reaching for a piece of fruit. You took a small bite, ensuring your movements were slow and deliberate, before glancing at him through your lashes. “Thought I’d make the most of the morning.” 

Sylus didn’t respond immediately, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your pulse quicken. “I see,” he said finally. He picked up his fork, his movements as calm and deliberate as ever, but there was a tension in his shoulders that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

Checkmate. 

He could act indifferent all he wanted, but the flicker of tension in his demeanor told you everything you needed to know. This was only the beginning.

You’d make him cave. You’d make him desperate. And you wouldn’t stop until you had the upper hand. 

—

Two weeks passed, and your efforts to make Sylus cave felt like a maddening exercise in futility. Despite your nightgowns, your perfectly styled hair, and your flawlessly applied makeup, Sylus remained infuriatingly stoic. He seemed to notice, oh yes—his lingering glances and occasional tightening of his jaw betrayed that much—but he never faltered. Never gave you the satisfaction of knowing you’d cracked his facade.

You were at your wit’s end.

That’s when the idea struck you: if he refused to react in private, you’d force his hand in public. You didn’t hesitate. Tonight, you’d wear the most scandalous dress you owned and make your presence impossible to ignore. Sylus had mentioned during breakfast that he had a meeting with some of his “business partners” in the main study. You knew what that meant: the criminals who operated under his shadow, men who thrived on power and weren’t subtle about their vices. If Sylus wasn’t going to crack under your teasing in private, maybe he’d crack in public — especially with prying eyes. 

The dress you chose was bold, scandalous even. The deep red fabric hugged your curves in a way that felt almost indecent, with a neckline that plunged daringly low and a slit up the side that revealed more than enough leg. You paired it with high heels that clicked against the polished floors as you made your way to the study, your heart pounding in anticipation.

The room fell silent the moment you stepped inside.

Sylus was seated at the head of the table, his silver eyes snapping to you instantly. The men seated around him — a motley crew of hardened faces and expensive suits — turned as one to look at you, their gazes lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. But you didn’t falter. You walked in as if you owned the room, pretending not to notice the way their stares burned into you.

“Y/N,” Sylus said, his voice sharp enough to cut through the thick silence. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” you said sweetly, placing a hand on the back of one of the chairs as you leaned slightly forward. You could feel the weight of their eyes on you, but you kept your focus on Sylus. “I was just looking for a book. Thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

One of the men let out a low whistle, and another chuckled under his breath. “That’s quite the dress for a library run,” one of them remarked, his tone dripping with suggestion. “Sylus, I didn’t know you were keeping such… exquisite company.” The room erupted into muted laughter, and you saw the way Sylus’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white where his hand gripped the armrest of his chair. His gaze flickered to the man who’d spoken, then back to you, and for the first time in weeks, you saw something crack in his composure.

Sylus stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “We'll continue this discussion later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. The men exchanged glances but nodded, rising from their seats and filing out of the room. A few cast lingering looks in your direction, but one sharp glare from Sylus sent them hurrying on their way.

When the door finally closed behind them, the silence was deafening.

“Do you have any idea who those men are? What they could’ve said — what they could’ve done — if I wasn’t there?” His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Finally, he took another step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You’re trying to provoke me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s working.” 

The way that he was looking at you, like you were prey, was something that you knew you should cower under. This was when he expected for you to give it up, but with all the frustration that you had over almost a month of being with him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. He walked up to you, pinning you between the door and himself, ever so imposing, like he was trying to make you cower. Instead, you looked right back up at him, your eyes meeting him, almost begging him to do something. Anything. Sylus’ hand came up in between the two of you, his fingers toying with the expensive fabric of your dress, so close to your chest. And then, in the split of a second, that same hand came to your throat, forcing you to look up at him, showing you that there was no way of getting out of his trap now. Or was it your trap? You weren’t sure. 

Sylus pressed his chest to your own, hand on your throat squeezing ever so slightly, fingers clinging against the expanse of your neck. You could feel his wedding ring dig into your skin, a stark reminder that this was the man that you married. You waited for him to say something, to break the imposing silence that immersed the two of you. He slotted his knee in between your legs, pressing right up against the place where you wanted him the most. 

You gave him a look, a look of hesitation or confusion, you weren’t sure. 

He chuckled. 

“Well, you wanted me, didn’t you?” He asked, a condescending tone that made you want to rip your hair out. He pressed his knee even higher up, the friction of your panties and his clothed knee making you almost whine. “Then use me. Since you want to dress like that.” 

You stared, much like a deer in headlights. 

And then it hit you. 

Oh. Oh. 

He wanted you to use his thigh. 

The realization struck you like lightning, and your breath hitched in your throat. It was his trap. One that you’d walked into oh so willingly, and yet somehow still managed to underestimate. His knee pressed against you again, and you felt your cheeks flush, heat pooling in your core despite the anger and frustration that still simmered beneath the surface. 

“Well?” Sylus prompted, his voice low and dangerously calm, his fingers tightening slightly around your throat. “I’m waiting.”

Your pride screamed at you to push him away, to refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this, but your body betrayed you. The closeness, the tension, the weeks of pent-up frustration — all of it coiled inside you, leaving you trembling and unsure whether you wanted to slap him or give in to him completely. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you moved instinctively, your hips shifting ever so slightly, testing the friction against his knee. His smirk deepened, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he watched you. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with condescension. His free hand moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he guided you, forcing your hips to rock against him. “That’s it. Don’t be shy now. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, half in resistance and half in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. The sensations were overwhelming, every movement sending sparks through your body. You hated the way he was watching you—like he was completely in control, like he knew exactly how this would end. “You’re insufferable,” you managed to hiss, though your voice lacked the venom you intended.

“And yet,” he said, his tone soft but cutting, “here you are, doing exactly what I tell you to.” The words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your frustration melting into something darker, something you couldn’t deny anymore. Your movements became more deliberate, your breath hitching as you gave in, letting the friction build with every slow, grinding motion. You had purposely worn underwear that was barely there under this dress, and now it was your kryptonite, the friction of his clothed knee, the way you were practically bare grinding against him, the way his other hand guided you with such ease. You were beginning to feel dumb, your head lolling against the door as you chased the high that you had been wanting for what seems forever. 

You couldn’t even listen to what he was saying, something about you being so good for him, so malleable like this, how he should’ve done this sooner if this is what got you under control. You didn’t care, whimpering and closing your eyes, a conglomerate of his name and swears leaving your mouth. His hand left your throat, where you were sure were bruises, and instead came to join the other on your waist, setting an impossible pace to make you reach that orgasm that you so desperately wanted. It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it. You dropped your head down to lean against his chest, and sure enough, you saw the embarrassingly large wet patch that you had created on his dress pants. The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, the pain of the friction all melting into your pleasure. 

“Beg me,” he ordered, much like how he commanded any space that he was in. 

You shook your head, not willing to give in. Even though you were practically the one who lost this game anyway. “No.” You said as he pulled you back and forth, your hips bucking as your legs began to shake. You were sure that if he wasn’t holding you up, you would’ve fallen to the floor. 

“Beg me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Or I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t — Sylus, don’t stop —”

“You want to cum? Then ask nicely. Just ask me and I’ll make it all better.” 

You could feel tears begin to prick in your eyes, the pleasure becoming too much. You were so close, just about to reach that edge, and yet his hands began to slow down. You whined, your hands pushing against his chest, which was to no avail. You were so fucking close, your hair you had perfectly crafted sticking to your face in a hot sweat. 

“Fuck, fine. Please, help me cum, please, oh fuck.”

And just like that, he continued the unruly pace, his head bowing into your neck, a mixture of lips and teeth meeting your skin. That was what did it for you, your legs squeezing his as you shook through every single second of your orgasm. You could feel every piece, every ounce of your essence in it. Your hearing went fuzzy, sighing, eyes rolling open as you tried to come back to yourself. Your hand was pressed against his chest, fingers creasing the black fabric of his dress shirt. 

When your eyes finally met his, you couldn’t look away. And Sylus? He looked at you as if he had won some type of prize. You were too exhausted to be angry though, your defiance nowhere to be seen. 

“I didn’t even touch you,” he spoke, with a tsk. “You’re such a needy wife.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Sylus was pushing away from you, causing you to lean your entire body against the door. His eyes scanned your face and then he was leaving out the door on the other side of the room, leaving you there. 

Leaving you to miss his touch. 

And it was then that you realized it was his game all along. 

[bunnyinvanilla]

reader + price somehow run into her family/ parents? Maybe they come to the bar or something but it’s awkward because her dad’s wondering why his daughter is with someone his age. better yet he’s her SUGAR DADDY. ormaybe it’s for Christmas/ new years. idk.

let’s just say you’ve moved abroad, as an exchange student working part time at the local bar of your sugar daddy, military captain, boss, john price, and you’ve never, ever told a soul about your relationship. The chance of anyone finding out is highly impossible, but what if your parents decide to surprise you for Christmas day and visit you at the bar?

you’ve been excited about Christmas, practically pleading john to let you decor the bar with cute, christmasy decorations. He didn’t care that much, wasn’t necessarily happy about seeing glittery ribbons everywhere, but he couldn’t say no to you, his little girl.

“what about a little mistletoe, daddy? we could hang it on the front door, so when couples come here they can kiss,” you beamed at the idea, looking up at him with gleaming, happy eyes while holding a box full of Christmas ornaments.

his brow perks up, a half, lazy smirk making his mustache twitch “we’re not hanging a mistletoe in my bar, doll”

you pout, placing the box down on the counter “why not? they’re so cute, and they’re elegant, delicate, it’ll blend in with the walls colors.”

john smirks at your whiny tone, and with a swift motion, he slips his arm around your waist, pushing you closer to him. He wraps his arm tight around your lower back, pressing your body against his “don’t need the mistletoe to kiss my girl whenever I want, doll”

you bite your lip to hide a little giggle, but he hungrily captures it with his mouth, crashing his lips against yours. Your back arches, and he leans closer to you, mouth devouring yours like a Christmas dinner, tongue delving deep and forcefully.

then you hear it. That familiar voice, engraved in your memory for years, you’d recognize it everywhere. You freeze, body tensing completely, and your head shifts to the side, as if struck by a lighting.

your parents are here.

at the bar, in the city.

you quickly push yourself away from john, trying to regain some composure. Your cheeks are completely on fire, and you hide your hand behind your back to try and subtly tug down at the hem of your skirt.

“dad,” you say, your voice holding all the mixing emotions, surprise, stupor and disbelief upon seeing them for the first time after months. You wish you could hide under a table. “mom, what are you doing here?”

but your father’s eyes are stuck on john — they fleck around the evident signs of symmetry, the thin wrinkles behind his eyes, the blooming gray on his dark hair and beard, recognizing what he saw in the mirror everyday himself.

the realization that his daughter was kissing a man his age, that could be her own father, stuck on him like a shot of cold, freezing water. For what he knows, they could’ve been colleagues. Childhood friends, even.

“honey, we thought we’d surprise you for Christmas, see how you’ve been doing” your mom is the first to break the ice, but her own disbelief in evident in the way she lets her eyes wander between you and john, who’s still standing behind you, the perfect example of self composure, discipline, being unfazed.

“you’ve flown all the way to the city?” you ask, shame making your words heavy on your tongue. You love your parents, but coming without any forewarn has led to an unpleasant situation.

“wanted to see how it was doing at work, since it’s the holidays, and you live here all alone,” your dad speaks up, a voice that could cut through stone. John held his gaze confidently, knowing if there was a single man he had to at least pretend to show respect to, it was your father.

“but, you didn’t tell me” you mumble softly, and finally walk closer to them.

“it was a surprise” your mom says, pretending not to be affected by the sight of a man older than her, that had his arm wrapped around her young little daughter and was kissing her. She is, but she is good at hiding her emotions.

“w-well, I’m happy to see you, I was gonna call you on Christmas Day,” you shyly peek behind you, gesturing nervously towards John, your heart pounding in your chest. “this is my, uhm, my boss, john”

john strolls closer, walking past through and standing in front of your dad — he’s taller than your father, more muscular and broader, but the closeness in age is evident. John was probably even a bit older than your own father.

“Mr,” he acknowledges your dad, a short, military style greeting that doesn’t seem to please him. “it’s a pleasure”

you know him well enough to recognize that smug, cocky and arrogant tone behind his words, that half grin that hides behind his thick beard. No one could ever make john feel uncomfortable, not even seeing his unconventionally too young sugar baby’s father, with a look that threatens to kill him.

maybe they could become friends, and that way, you could officially be living the ‘dad’s friend’ trope with your sugar daddy. He’s ready to have the ‘your daughter calls me daddy too’ conversation, gosh, if he knew the things he’s done to you, how he’s been treating his little girl, how angrier would your dad look right now?

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Chapter 4: Rebirth

Your lie didn't strain the trust he entrusted you with, quite the opposite, because he seemed almost proud with you the following days. Opening up as if that piece of information about you, your past and operations, were enough to see the full picture. And if so you wonder what kind of picture he saw, was it grotesque, boringly neutral or was it beautiful? No matter what the answer was, he seemed more respectful of you, yet that didn't translate in rigidness but in a more relaxed composure that had you smiling in relief. Seeing a man who fought all his life shed parts of his armor or at least his weapons, because of you, was something you took in stride, an honor. Especially coming from someone you could consider a childhood hero and an inspiration to your little insurrection.

It was charming, seeing Silco talk more to your community and clients as another month passed. His commercial smiles were rarer, leaving place for small, fleeting, yet genuine ones, like a gentle breeze during the burning summer heat in Zaun, cooked under and between metal plates and stone like you were in an oven. People asked as much about him as they did about you, the conversations longer and friendlier, the clipped fear melted into comfortable warmth. You didn't know if you could call him that to his face, but you were beginning to see the man as a friend and you hoped he did too, although you didn't mind if he didn't. It was crazy to come back home and banter with the man, have a routine, a cozy metronome rhythming your life between co-working and sharing a flat.

His jokes were dry, sharp, stated like facts, and they would be taken as such if it wasn't for the shine in his eyes, the slightly teasing tone of his voice and the hint of a smirk stretching his scarred lips. He was witty and fast, sending you in a verbal joust everytime he dared kid around you, and those might be your favourite moments. Underneath the professionalism and coolness, albeit must more softened that it used to be, he usually displays is a really interesting man. And you know it wouldn't be anytime soon or even ever that he'd grow soft around you like he did around his daughter. The tone, behavior and thought process he used around her was that of a loving father, she was all he had for a long time after all, other than his empire of course. But you could only wish to taste some of the sweetness he could give out, after all one craves what they cannot have, and you didn't count on ever recieving such treatment from him. But this...whatever it was, friendship, companionship, partnership that you shared with him would be enough for now, forever if that is how he decided it to be. And it wouldn't bother you one bit.

Not when business was booming due to your newfound collaboration, your working speed increased, your work load shared, it made money come in and new clients stay. But especially not when you finally felt like the missing piece of the puzzle had been placed in your hands, someone who understood you even beyond words. Now did you know where that piece went? No, you don't think you will for a long time, especially since it's Silco. But at least you had it, and it brought you new life, a pep in your step as your lungs seem to breathe easier, energy somewhat always a little more than it had been for...ever. He'd stay up later to help you in planning your small scale revolution, his years of experience giving you the upper hand with new found passageways and better plans, combining two minds into perfect one woman operations. He'd always care for you if you came back injured, gentle hands and a more detached voice, yet it was never mean and always careful. Once upon a time you would've found it insulting, thinking he was seeing you as an incapable fool, yet now you could almost see tension in his shoulders and tasted the concern on his tongue. Since the night you came bloodied and battered, you had shared a bed, Silco refusing to allow you anywhere near the couch at night time even preferring to care for you in the alcove. He said it was because the light was better and you two could get into whatever position he deemed necessary easier, but you had a hint of a suspicion that he was doing this simply because he liked having someone to care for again. After all, even when your face was untouched he prepared you a basin of hot water and a cloth to put over your eyes.

But you'd never tell him you knew, both out of respect for him and because it somehow made it feel more like a secret, more intimate.

No one had cared for you like that before, so up close and personal. And it felt weird to admit you did crave the touch that followed every mission you sent yourself on. And you felt motivated by looking into Silco's eyes, the clashing waves and roaring flames welcoming you in their embrace as he held a stare full of unsaid words of approval and care. But when he did it was "don't be stupid", but you knew he meant be careful. It would be "not bad" or a small huff expulsed with a slight curl of his lips instead of good job, narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows with a "you're an absolute moron" and a gentle yet firm grip of his hands on you instead of are you hurt. But you knew. And you'd play the game, letting him know you understood by answering with "the only stupid one here is you, you old fossil", "pretty great if I do say so myself" and "you should've seen the other guy". It was in his comfort zone, helping him maintain a control over the dam of his feelings yet letting him express it however he wished to, allowing him to lead the dance although he was as lost as you were. But he was learning fast, and you were proud of that.

Cooking was still shared in the same way yet something else had changed, since he prohibited you from getting on the couch past dinner time you slept back in your bed, Silco taking up the downstairs. No longer did the soft blanket wrap around you as you slept, yet it felt all the same, the sheets smelling like him before you washed them not too long ago. He smelled like the tobacco of your shared cigarettes, the metal from the forge, the whiskey you both drank, residues of earlier coffees and a hint of something akin to old books.

Not that you paid too much attention of course, it was just because you slept in the same bed he had for months. Your bed yet it felt ever so slightly different, not quite yours yet not his either.

"Alright Silco, I'll close up for lunch and get us something, what do you want?"

He hums pensively. "Would Vasha's sound alright to you?"

You nodded, excited at the thought of the chirean vastaya and his delicious assortments of fried foods. "You know how to speak to my soul." He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head before the bell rings, signalling someone entering the shop. It rang a dozen times and you were suddenly alert, looking outside of the staff room through the window to see well hidden lookouts in the streets. All had copper mouth guards which could only mean one thing. Chross.

"I had no idea you were in the business of making clients wait." Says the old man, sitting on his wheelchair, small glasses making his eyes look beady like a bug's.

"And I had no idea you were stupid enough to come here, although I did wager you'd know of Silco sometime soon, if you hadn't for months already."

"You revealed your big secret just like that? Have you no care for the man currently hiding like a coward in the back room?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you crossed your arms and leaning them over the table.

"We both know you wouldn't come here to order from me. You're far too much of a posh, self-absorbed bastard to remember that us lowly people exist and are worth something too although all your information comes from us, how surprising of a man like you." Your voice is light yet a soft snarl is heard, vibrating through the tense air between you two, the gentlemen in the room buzzing at the words.

"And so was the man you're hiding."

With that you let out a cackle. "I didn't even need to hide him because you Chem Barons have become stupid from too much oxygen and power. And yeah, he was an asshole, but compared to all of you good for nothings at least his sin stemmed from a genuine care for Zaun and its people. Not like you disgusting lot." You look them up and down, one by one, your face souring teasingly as if to show how repugnant you thought they are, and it would be nothing but the truth.

"Now now, no use to be so...uncouth-"

"Yak yak." You cut him off rudely. "Now tell me what the fuck you want before I release to the public the juicy information on your special operation with the enforcers in which you give them intelligence and let your fellow Zaunites get caught in exchange for some dirty money. How long do you think it'd take for your empire to burn then?" A smirk slices through your face like a knife, specifically the dagger Silco gave you.

"I just wanted to make sure my old friend, was faring well."

"Lie again and I'll send pictures of your counter deals with the up and coming Horned Angels, that you definitely didn't pay to assassinate enforcers you worked with to keep your slice of the pie."

And before Chross could speak again Silco appeared from behind, walking in from the back room, hands dried with a towel that he slings over his shoulder.

"I'd listen to her if I were you, old friend." The last word is almost spat out. "The little lady seldom makes threats she doesn't follow through with." He settles next to you, leaning his hips on the border of the counter, eyepatch still on.

"You hide your eye now, and you dress like the rats?"

"I am the Eye of Zaun no more, I have no need to keep that pesky thing out to scare the world." Silco caresses the eyepatch lightly. "And those rats you speak so lowly of are your source of revenues, so I'd be careful if I was you."

"The Eye of Zaun no more, mh?" Chross hums pensively. "Then the informations were right, you have been domesticated by a wench."

"I'd watch my language if I were you Chross, she is every little bit as dangerous as I am."

"Ah yes, the young revolutionary." Chross sighs, frustrated that the conversation wasn't going his way. "You've been a pain in our side for a long time now. Dangerous indeed. You're very good at what you do...for a woman by herself. But nothing that couldn't be expected from one of Keradon's, especially not his killer. Look at you now, playing the hero for lowly people and protecting the disgraced head of the Barons, how far the mighty have fallen."

You sigh, straightening up on the counter, eyes heavy with bubbling rage beneath your lids. Nodding your head quickly towards the door, mentioning Silco to lock it, you shove your fists in your pockets before walking around the counter, setting yourself next to the aged, dapper man.

"Manners." Silco opens the door and rolls down the metal curtains. "Maketh." He enters back and slides the first lock shut. "Man." The second one clicked, resounding in the silent room, stuffy with apprehension. "Those are the principles of the ones under your employ yet their manners are left to be desired, and you do not seem to care for such things either, morals and ethics even less. Unless pretense counts. In which case you'd be the most honest man in Runeterra." Your voice slights at the Baron.

"But I fear that isn't the case and that respect is not your forté either now is it Chross?" Silco says, leaning against the closed wooden door, arms crossed and face rigid, he almost looked like the Industrialist he used to be at that moment. Yet something deep within that teal eye of his pierced through the stormy ocean, rays of sun indicating the way, the dark violence of black rolling clouds somewhat tamed into less of a chaotic maelstrom and more of a controlled tempest.

"See, we knew you'd come to cause problems. And we discussed what we'd to with you once the moment reached us. A lot has been said, Silco was more partial to torture, and I to leave you one chance to explain yourself before bashing you 'til next Sunday."

"Now that you've not only insulted your own people, but also she and I, you've lost that chance. So instead of chosing what to do, why don't we do both? I bet she learns quick." The deep rumble of Silco's voice is heard, the sheer intensity of his tone making bodies shiver and hairs stand.

Chross was now fidgeting next to you, measuring pros and cons of attacking you as you and you partner stood on each side of the room, eyes set on them men in the room like predators eyeing their prey.

And all of a sudden the man next to you has his face smashed on the counter, your knee kicking him in the neck then stomping on his lap as you held his head. Switching to those behind you, you quickly get in your usual stance, low and agressive like a starved beast. In the blink of an eye you were at their throats, bones cracking, teeth grinding, bruises blooming at your hits; Silco running through his enemies with an ease of movement you could expect from him yet which still surprised you, slippery and fast as his dagger cuts through flesh and fabric. By the time you were done Chross was still on his wheelchair wheezing and groaning.

"So, you will appologize and then when you get out you will protect this secret with your life, no word about Silco or all the informations about your shady deals are being released and we'll watch with great pleasure as you get ripped apart." Your voice is almost detached as you crouch down, grabbing the man's jaw roughly to force him to look at you, your face smashing against his in a bruising headbutt. "The Eye of Zaun is dead. You hear, Chross?"

He nods, head swerving from side to side in pained dizziness as you drag him forward, Silco opening back the locks and curtain.

"And since you've been so keen on wasting our time." Your partner begins, inching dangerously towards Chross, his saunter slow and deliberate. "You will remind your lackeys that we are off limits, except if you want them to come back in body bags. And you better turn a blind eye to our actions too, a vigilante in Zaun is fine, but a name dropping trencher is a breaking of the code. And that would mean punishment for you, we wouldn't just let you infringe on the rules without consequences after all."

The tall man crumpled in his seat at a sudden punch from Silco and slowly yet shakingly straightens up, looking around at his deceased goons with frustration and fear, his chest heaving, face bleeding and his glasses broken on his face.

"Oh and since you've cut our lunch break you'll make your boys clean their friends up, that means also cleaning my shop, and give us your money. I'm sure you'll run faster with your wallet lighter." Your hand extends to the Chem baron, grabbing the air until a wad of notes was placed on your hand, the man going outside to call his men. The group making quick work of the dozen of bodies before wiping the floor of any and all blood under your smug, watchful eye, Silco standing next to you harboring the same expression before turning to you.

"I told you, you're a pissant."

"And you're as much of a bastard as I am, don't play coy." You slap his arm and in recoils in false offense, the play easy for you to decypher but making the men in the room rush their way out.

"I appologize for bothering you, ma'am, sir. Have a good day." At Chross' appology and departure, you both look at one another with something akin to victory painted on your faces as the bell rings one last time.

With huffs of laugh you close shop together after writing a little sorry note that you stuck to the door.

Business having taken more time than we'd have hoped,

the shop will be closed until 3 p.m instead of 2 p.m.

Thank you for understanding,

the Glass Anvil duo

And with that you walked out, greeting others on the street as you made your way to Vasha's your backs were straighter, chests puffed a bit more while your fellow Zaunites smiled at your passage.

You had successfully secured Silco's place here within your community and now he was fully separated from his past, for good.

With how important the information you detained was, you knew that Chross would not dare to, well....cross you. He'd keep this safe with him until his demise and the information would die with him, and with how decrepit he looked you wagered it wouldn't be much time until then.

Arriving at the chirean vastaya's stall you ordered your usual, revelling at the prospect of hot, crispy, fried delicacies filling your growling stomach. It had surprised you just how much Silco adored this type of food, revelling in the hot greasy and crispy finger foods, probably not used to such hearty meals as he'd always be working, preferring something quick. Yet with how he cooked you could bet he always made time to prepare something healthy for Jinx, healthy food for a growing girl.

Speaking of Jinx, in the last few months due to her attack on the council she had become Piltover's number 1 enemy, wanted posters stuck all over the walls. You avoided talking about her to Silco, knowing he was probably beyond hurt at how the world saw his little girl, yet while you hated the thought of one of your own hunted down, she did cause a lot of trouble. Trouble you've had a part in fixing by helping her father.

As a Zaunite, you hoped the girl was fine. As Silco's partner, you hoped she was safe.

You didn't know the girl, but from how she sounded back then, the rumors about her since a little above seven years ago and Silco's reactions: you knew enough. She was broken just like you, and although you would never forget or condone the hurt she's caused, you could forgive or at the very least understand.

This afternoon after opening back the shop, people came in as always, ordering and speaking to the both of you, their tone holding a bit of pride.

"Not too bad for an half-blind owl. There might be a chance for you yet as a Zaunite." Was what Oleg, the same man who you had corrected on Silco's first day, mumbled proudly with his hand on your collegue's shoulder two weeks later. Patting twice before squeezing and letting go, nodding his farewell before walking away from you.

"Wow, that's as close of a compliment as you'd get from him."

"And I wager that you'd know?" His voice drawls.

"Oh yeah, you both are quite the same in that sense. Never a thank you, a please or a good job. You ungrateful pricks." You laugh as you wipe some of your dripping sweat away, Silco pulling on your ear.

"I'm ungrateful now am I? Mh?"

"Yup. But it's fine, you make it up with your half-assed nonchalance, the words still mean what they mean no matter how much you hide it Silco." You muse.

Before the banter continued you both heard the bell ring multiple times, panicked voices filling the shop.

"They're gassing the streets!"

"They've deployed a strike team!"

"They're interrogating all of us!"

But the most shocking of all.

"They're using the grey!"

The gas that fills the levels of the Undercity, industrial coal or fuel fumes mixed with whatever chemicals Piltover decided to use that day, fusing in a thick deadly fog. Despite its name the grey was green, so heavy you could cut it with a knife, so foul it rotted you from the inside out, turned people blind, deaf or mute, clogged airways, and brought forth many more illnesses and lethal side effects than you could count.

"They're at the Fringes, they're getting closer, please we need masks!"

As a Zaunite your answer was a yes from the moment the moment they entered your shop for help and as a Sumper it had become a mission for you to provide as many masks as possible for your people, after all you grew where the chemical filled air and water were the worse.

"Get me all the filters you can from every shop possible, I have some but it won't suffice, get more people in on it too, make them all come here. We'll make your masks."

"And tell them exactly what you told us. If they're reticent, just tell them that if they'd rather die then they're very welcome to do so. But we will fight to gift as many people clean air as possible. We do not know when this attack will stop, so we need to stand together." The gravelly voice spoke, turning to you as you prepared filters and sheets of metal in the forge.

"Now go!" And at your voice, they did. Rushing out, yelling in the streets to rally more people as you got to work, paper scribbled on as you planned your masks, sheets of metal cut, heated, then folded and hammered into shape, holes pierced into them before you installed the filter and switched to the next one. Meanwhile Silco went to go look for filters of his own aswell as to make sure every home had gotten the information about the current situation.

Piltover had resoluted to use chemical warfare.

And that meant that they used the vents and pipes that they designed specifically to give you trenchers fresh air and to rid you of some of the grey.

It was an ugly feeling, the rage you were currently feeling. Red and hot like the metal beaten by your hammer, bubbling just beneath the surface as you try to hold yourself together. They saw you as good for nothings and monsters, as rats, as parasites, yet they're the ones pulling all of the most horrible stunts, hidden beneath gilded confidence and riches. And today proved you just that. Not only had they used one of the most horrible things plaguing Zaunites as a weapon, but they also prepared a strike team. It was not a big group of basic dim witted pigs, no, those were elite enforcers in a small condensed team. More dangerous than an entire station.

"We got filters!"

"Thank you boys, stay safe, you see smoke and you run alright?"

"Yes ma'am."

And that went on for days until the grey arrived in your own small part of the Undercity, your people equipped with masks as they walked the foggy streets, even in their homes. Yet you still worked. The Fringes, Entresol and Sump had been equipped to the best of your ability, Silco having joined you to make the process faster as your shop focused on providing Zaunites with masks, stalling any other orders. Sometimes he went out, rushing in the streets to see if anyone was trapped in the the grey, bringing them back to the shop so you could provide them with masks and comfort before sending them back on their way. His speed and deceptive strength helping as many people as his body allowed him to for the day.

After a week the grey grew thicker behind the glass windows on the front of your shop, and soon it was so heavy that nothing seemed to exist outside. Your door kicked down as the smog swooped in the room. Silco crawled, using the fog as a cover to go hide in the break room between boxes as you worked hard, the flame of the hearth illuminating you, the sole sounds in the room were the clinking of your hammer and the crackle of the fire burning hot behind you. An almost demonic dark shape stared from the shadows, slowly approaching until you could discern five body shapes.

"So you've arrived."

"You've been expecting us?" Said a classic high Piltovan accent, the same one you heard in the warehouse the night you saved Silco, this was Cait, or as you realized with the news of the council, Caitlyn Kiramman.

"Your operation is not exactly all that inconspicuous, even a blind man could see the damage you're causing. Very Piltovan of you Kiramman."

"Listen, we just want to know where Jinx is." That was Vi, the other girl who was there that night, and a fellow Zaunite. Your anger reached a boiling point, the bubbling anger turned into burning rage as you look at them, finally looking up from your anvil. They all wore great quality gas masks, that damned navy uniform, and had...hextech weapons? You scoffed, so much for "wanting hextech to be an instrument of help and peace", right mister Man of Progress?

"You piece of shit." The pink haired girl recoiled and her teammates approached. A large man with a riot shield, a small girl with a shotgun, a slim man holding batons and arboring a big backpack, aswell as Kiramman and Vi heself. "You're using the grey against your own people? What a great Zaunite you are, really the pride of our people aren't you?"

"Please we just want to stop my sister! She's caused enough damage."

"Maybe she has, but do you fucking realise you're only stoking the flames, girl?!" Your voice gains in volume as you step around your work station, hammer in hand while approaching Caitlyn. "Your mother is dead Kiramman, my appologies and condolences. But do you fucking realize where you are, mh? A place where all of us have lost everything even our humanity in Uppercitizen's eyes all because of you people! A place where we deal with such deaths everyday! But do we fight back? Do we gas, attack and interrogate you? No! Because we can't and you Pilties make sure of that, because you make sure we're grovelling to serve you yet never get enough to fight back! And yet you think using the grey against us is righteous for the death of three fucking people? Well four, but you wouldn't care about the dead Zaunite, now would you?"

You yell out, pointing your hammer at the girl, her confidence waning. Then you turn to Vi.

"And you, a trencher that betrays her own people."

"Because my sister is dangerous!"

"Yes she is! But so are you! How many have you killed? How many do you still want to kill? How many have died during this operation alone because of the grey? You hypocrite, calling your sister a monster while you're the same."

"As if you're any better." Chimes in an accented voice, the small girl was standing differently than the others, the tension that they all felt was all but absent from her and you could see something was clearly off about that.

"Talk all you want, little bird, you're not innocent either. I can smell more blood on you than on any of them, so don't try me." You get closer to her, her shotgun pointed and touching your chest directly. "The difference between you gods damned peanuts and I is that I know I'm a monster, beats being a self-righteous ass that can't see the weight of their crimes. Or maybe you do see them but feel pride, mh?" Your hand grips the weapon as she tenses, pushing it away from you.

"How can you breathe in the grey? I thought it was impossible."

"When you're a Sumper, a factory worker or a miner it's all you ever breathe. Your little trick is doing nothing to me. Now, if I were to take away your masks, what do you think would happen?"

The girl quickly steps back and the slim man holds your arm, it was gentle, as if he wanted to calm you down. Yet you grab his hand, as gently as he grabbed you, and pushed it away while sighing to try and keep yourself from initiating a fight.

"Jinx isn't here, I got no idea of where she is, now fuck off from my shop, my space and my city. And pink girl?" You call out to her, a sharp breath indicating she was listening. "Don't bother coming back to Zaun, and if you do, avoid this area. I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from making you a stain on the pavement." You turn and walk back to your anvil, your form displayed threateningly with the roaring hearth flames. "That goes for any of you, by the way. So if you step a foot in Zaun, do watch your backs."

Their forms are tensed, jumping at each hit of your hammer on hot metal.

"We appologize for wasting your time." Your hammer stops at Vi's voice.

"You better be more sorry at how many people you've traumatized or killed with your fucking stunt, girl. I hope you're happy with yourself." Cait places a hand on Vi's shoulder, stepping in front of her.

"And do be careful with threatening high ranked officers, we could've done much damage had we wanted to."

"Sure thing Kiramman, I would've wiped the floor with you and that's why you haven't attacked although you've had every occasion to at my insubordination. Now go before I reconsider my generosity."

The two men nod, leaving your shop with small bows. Then followed Vi and Caitlyn who had stared at you for a while before going for the door. The last one was the peculiar girl, her fists clenched as she stayed there, looking at you.

"Need another lesson, girl?" Your voice snaps her from whatever thought had her looking downright murderous towards you, her steps clicking against the floors before the bell rang one last time.

And you continued hammering, the scalding heat of the hearth and metal somehow multiplied by ten in the thick chemical fog, your lungs heaving in rage and exhertion as sweat pearled on your body. Only when the fog started dissipating did Silco come out from the back, his steps silent and presence unnoticeable up until he released a big sigh. His steps led him to the counter on which he leaned on with his hips, arms crossed, a few strands of hair landing on his forehead and dangling over his face at their length. He hadn't cut his hair since he first arrived and it was growing longer, it went from the straight slick back and shaved sides to a more fluffed style, the hair on the sides growing as does the top. He looked younger, his hair healthier as his constant habit of raking his fingers through his hair disappeared little by little over the past six months, still present yet barely.

"That was agression I've never seen before coming from you. Yet I understand it all the same, your self control is unbelievable." His low voice rumbles before you hunch over the anvil, hot metal burning your flesh was not even accounted for as you took deep calming breaths.

"Trust me, I'm surprising myself too. But if I stoop as low as these animals, what would that make me?" You hiss, the pain of your burns finally catching up to you as you rip yourself away from the metal, forearms marred in new burns.

"It would make you what they see you as, what they see all of us as."

"Well to hell with that, and with them." Silco kills the heat in the forge before dragging you to the back, leaving your arms under the running faucet with cold water before sitting you down on a chair and picking up your first aid kit.

"How do you feel about closing up early today, mh?" He says, handling you as gently as he usually does when treating your wounds, cleaning the burns on your arms. "We could go to sector thirty seven in zone nine to take a walk."

"As in, the shores?" He nods, ointment gently rubbed on the painful red marks and boils. "Why there?"

"It's somewhere that means much to me. And I feel like as much as I know about you, you know so little about me. I...plan on clearing some things up, I suppose." He pauses, hands grabbing the bandages before his gaze met yours.

"You don't have to if you don't wish to Silco. it's not fair if you feel like it's simply to balance the ledger."

"It's not, I do wish to tell you. No one but Sevika truly know the full story, and she was more my employee than she was a friend, even though once upon a time it was the case." He starts to move, the bandages softly wrapped around the big burn marks, tightened enough to be safe yet not too much to hurt you more than necessary.

Your breath hitched at that, the impression he had called you his friend making the remaining rage quit your body and replace it with a relaxed sense of joy. That feeling stayed for the rest of your journey to River Pilt, and sitting down on the shores, looking at the evening sky, you felt different. That joy had ebbed away to leave a small tension as you looked to the horizon.

"Am I your friend then?"

He turns, gazing at you inquisitively.

"You said Sevika knew the whole story and she'd been your friend once. Does that mean..." You trail off, unsure.

"You've been my only friend since..years. Even when I didn't want you to be."

"Good, I was scared to be the only one of us thinking this way." Was the gentle answer you gave, leaving the air open for him so that he could open up when he was ready. And it took a while, as if the words were trying to claw their way out but his body forbade him to let them out, but in the end he closed his eye and took a deep breath, removing his eyepatch at the same time.

"You surely remember the Bridge revolt." You nod at his words, soft yet filled with a maelstrom of hidden feelings. "Benzo, a childhood friend of Vander and I, had gotten arrested and would be brought to Stillwater where he'd probably spend the rest of his days. I was young, naive, and although I was not usually impulsive, that day I was. He was family, and like hell I'd let him simply get caught. So a group within the Children of Zaun and I ran to save him."

He takes a deep breath, his ink black eye swirling with emotion as the orange of his iris flickered like a dying flame, his evebrows furrowed while he tongues the inside of his cheek.

"Within that group was another childhood friend, her name was Felicia, she was a miner like Vander, Benzo and I were. She was a mother of two, and on that day, on that attack that I planned, she died with her husband. Not only leaving two young girls alone, one ten years old and one merely five, but also emptying her spot in our lives as our best friend."

One of his legs shifts up, bending to accomodate his elbow as he hel his head in his hand, the other draped on his other thigh.

"When Vander saw that he attacked me, stabbing and slashing me, clawing at my eye..." His eyes look down at the river. "..drowning me. He had all the advantages in the world in weight, height and agression. I was just shocked, terrified and betrayed, and no matter how much I fought I knew I couldn't win, so I acted like I had died and his hands left my neck. It almost felt peaceful, the silence after this violence, after this horrible day, yet when the air ran out I was forced to come back up with my lungs screaming, my eye came next."

He turned his face to you, his teal eye now also visible as you looked at his scar, grey, and fleshy, as if unhealed even after all this time, the color of his eye and its state now making much more sense to you.

"Your eye is because of the chemicals?"

"Yes." He muses darkly, nodding as another sigh leaves his lips.

"And the girls?"

"They got raised by Vander along with two boys. Seven and a half years ago I started gaining on him and Benzo and him died. Although Vander was during the explosion at the cannery after I...caught him and tried to make him see his way to bring forth the Nation of Zaun left us in a stalemate with Piltover. The two boys died trying to get him out, the oldest girl Violet was fighting off shimmer enhanced lackeys with her fists and got out alive. The the most tragic of all was the youngest girl Powder, who wanted to save her brothers and sister aswell as her father, she made a little bomb..."

"...a little girl was the cause of the explosion?"

He nods again. "Indeed. And that's the day her sister abandonned her, calling her a jinx, and I found her."

You breathe in sharply, the pieces of the puzzle of Silco's life got clearer, more than half of it finally depicting the image you worked towards.

"Then...what happened to you?"

"Violet had been taken to Stillwater after that, broken out by the Kiramman girl after seven years."

"Caitlyn?" He purses his lips and tilts his head in agreement, his eyebrows raising for a second.

"Jinx thought her dead, or like she abandonned her for good along with the deaths of her family, the girl had been fractured, psychosis, hallucinations, attachment issues..she had gained the lot. I did my best to raise her but as an orphan raised in the mines and with much unhealed trauma myself, I've made her worse. I tried, but I could've never been good or enough for her."

You wrap an arm around him, and although he tenses he quickly lets out a sigh, his whole body melting into the touch.

"You did all you could with what you knew, at least you truly loved her and not many of us can attest to the same. She was never hungry, never cold and never alone. You weren't a great father, but you were the best father you could manage to be, especially to someone as young and broken as her."

Your arm squeezes around him comfortingly.

"Things escalated between Hextech, the new councilor, my rise in Zaun, my daughter had started causing chaos albeit under my command but also under her own, and at the peak of this tension sat a crucial moment. Jayce Talis, a man who we can say many things about except that he isn't honest and hard working, met up with me to discuss giving Zaun blanket amnesty, sovereignty, access to the hexgates...And he had but one price."

He leans towards you.

"Your daughter..."

"Indeed. My daughter, my best friend's youngest child, the girl that had kept me going all this time. And I tried to haggle, yet he wouldn't hear it. That day I visited Vander for the first time in seven years, his statue situated at the square of the Lanes. Our creation for our people, our first step towards independency, our first successful large scale rebellion. And I finally told him I understood why he had chosen peace over war, and that although I had forgiven years ago I now saw the bigger picture. When you raise and love children of your own, any harm coming to them is unthinkable, and she had nearly died and became a part of a transaction to get what was my one dream, our dream, for decades. She heard me, thought I considered it and captured me, inviting her sister and Caitlyn for a game in which she would decide who she truly was."

His eyes told you all you needed to know as you squeezed him yet again. "Powder or Jinx?"

"Indeed. But with her sister there, fighting so hard for her to come back, Caitlyn being in opposition and I fighting for her as my daughter, it triggered an episode and.."

"..And you nearly died."

"She shot blindly, she was blind at that moment, head filled with visions of the past and the present. She wanted them gone."

"But ended up shooting you....And your death was what prompted her to attack the council. That much I theorized."

His chest rises and falls deeply, his eyes glossy.

"She's not a bad person. She just had a bad life."

"And so did you. You're a good man who did awful things, but deep down...You always were that boy from the Children of Zaun, even after grief, anger and fear clouded your heart. You never stopped loving your people, you began loving your daughter, even Vander, yet you never saw that the one who needed love beyond all of that was yourself. And that's what made you lose sight of what truly mattered in the nation of Zaun, it's not the fact it needed to happen soon, it's not what you'd have to do to get there, it's its people."

He hums, his chest vibrating at the sound.

"You helped me realize that, Jinx and Talis contributed too. But by that time it was too late, the cogs of my defeat had started turning."

"It never is. Trust me." You huff out a small laugh through your nose. "I grew up under Keradon as a glorified murderer, i was so hopeless I didn't realise my power over him until I was twenty three. That was late too, but it wasn't too late, it was just unfortunate that it took me so long to get to it."

Your hand slowly inches to his head, raking fingers through his hair as his good eye widens yet the tension in his face releases, his lips slightly open to let out a soft breath.

"That day at the river, the young revolutionary died to leave space for the weary and powerful Eye of Zaun, to protect himself from hurt. And when Jinx shot you, that man died aswell. What's left to figure is who do you want to be this time Silco?"

He takes a long time to think, the lights of Piltover now brighter in the dark of night as the faraway neons of Zaun lit up the coast, just enough for you to see the ground.

"I wish to be a wiser man, yet as Piltover becomes more overzealous than ever in putting Zaun beneath the earth I cannot bear the thought of stopping the fight I started so many years ago." His right hand grabs yours which rested on top of his shoulders. "I wish to fight the good fight and help my people, but not alone. I suppose I'd like to ask my friend if she'd be willing to let me fight by her side so she can keep me in check. She's already helped me healing in the past half year I've met her, she's stubborn and honest, and most important of all she's loyal, to her people and even to me.

I wish to fight for Zaun again, with her by my side so I can heal and make the right choices, because it seems like no matter how convoluted the path can be, with her by my side I'll be able to achieve this if she'll have me."

His left arm wraps around your shoulder, his voice so much more gentle than what you're used to. It was as soft and loving as it had been with Jinx, yet hesitant, almost youthful in its careful wording. His eyes seemed so unguarded, so vulnerable and desperate and his lips were open, showing the bottom of two chipped upper teeth.

At that moment Silco looked so young. Pleading as if your friendship and presence in his life were his lifeline. And while he might have believed you to not feel the same, you did.

"Well, she has been lonely for a long time, that friend. Fighting on her own all her life even when she surrounded herself with good people, because no one would know her as deeply as you did. All she wanted was someone by her side, and you've offered her just that." You sigh, laying your head in the crook of his neck. "Of course I'll have you by my side Silco. I've wanted to be your friend since I ran back home with your body in my arms. Although I would've let you go anytime you wished if you asked me to."

"I'm glad I didn't."

And you were too, you were glad that he stayed. Was the thought you had in the precious, peaceful silence stretching between you two before he got up, his hand outstretched to you. You took it as he helped you get up, still holding yours as he led you into the cold water, taking your other hand and placing them both on his shoulders.

"SIlco?"

"Let me be reborn as a new man, once and for all." He asks, his eyes pleading you before his words did. "Please?"

He looked so peaceful that you couldn't hold it in you to refuse, smiling as you gained an idea, bending down as you pushed his shoulders as both of you dipped underwater.

He was right, it was peaceful, and his warmth and proximity fought of the frigid cold of the chemical filled waters or the River Pilt. As you came back out, the cool night air now feeling warm, he opened his good eye while his eyebrows raised.

"Gone is the lonely girl I once was, fighting on her own against the world and her own demons although all the odds were against her. If you were going to free yourself of the past, so was I, my friend." You squeeze his shoulders, bringing him in a tight and warm embrace. And although it took him some time, he embraced you aswell, his face almost nuzzling against your neck.

"You've been strong, it's time to share the burden Silco."

"You can share yours with me too." He mumbled against your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing back and forth from where his arms were wrapped around you.

"Something else we can share is the bed, I won't take no for an answer."

He chuckles, the vibration of his chest on yours making your stomach flutter at the first untamed laugh he shared with you.

"I wouldn't mind that, I'm not quite as young as I used to be. And I've already gotten a decade of being bent over a desk slaving away at paperwork and sleeping on the office couch because I would refuse to sleep full nights."

You laugh and the both of you separate, making your way back to the shore, then starting to walk back home, Silco already putting his eyepatch back on.

"How old even are you?" Escapes your mouth before you can eyen think, the question you've asked yourself months ago resurfacing as you made your way home.

He chuckles again, louder this time. "Fourty four."

"Damn!" He laughs again. "I'm sorry." You whisper and clear your throat. "Well....you look good for mid-fourties."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not! The scars are very rugged"

"Don't pull my leg."

"The salt and pepper's nice, real mature!" You nudge him with your elbow and wiggle your eyebrows and he chortles, bringing forth your own snorts and giggles.

"Sure."

"Your hair looks good too, I definitely can see you looking good with it longer."

"I had it long in my youth." He says as the both of you climb the stairs to your appartment, unlocking the door for the both of you.

You stop and grab him by the shoulders. Closing the door with your heel.

"To where?"

He lines his hand slightly below his shoulders. "There, approximately."

"Damn!"

"Is it that surprising?"

"It was mostly in a bun to keep it out of my face in the mines."

"No, no, I can see it, your hair's been growing and it looks nice on you. Younger. It's wavy too now that you don't pull at it all the time, I can only imagine what young you looked like. Long black hair, aquiline nose, two teal eyes, slim but strong, pretty voice..."

"Damn!"

He leans his hips on the kitchen table as he chuckles, bracing himself with an arm, eyebrows lifted and mouth curled in a smile as he shook his head.

"What? You were hot!"

"Was? Am I past my prime then?"

"Hell no, you're like a good whiskey, you get better with age." You blurt out again.

"Then you do find me attractive now." Your eyes widen before you rush to the bathroom as his laugh continues.

"Fuck off Silco!"

prev || m.list || next

Taglist: @vicurious28@midromiell@zorosleftmantit101@anthy-j-ander@agathasslutt@onyxistired@ren-ren23@hurts-my-brain

Happy new year everyone!

[delulustateofmind]

OMG, your fic "This is Love, Right?" was really good. I have a feeling that Geto never truly loved Y/N, at least not as a lover, and neither did Gojo, because it seems to me that Y/N was only important to him until Geto came into the picture. After Geto's arrival, their whole dynamic changed, and Y/N ended up becoming a third wheel and broodmare in the relationship, where they hardly respect or love her as much as they do each other. I just want to know your point of view on the dynamics of their relationship and your perspective on my thoughts about them.

TW: Toxic Relationship, Abuse of Power Dynamics, Discussion of Yandere Behaviors.

Ahhh! thank you! Good question, your perspective is pretty spot on!

Okay, so... long story short, they think they love the reader.

Like, they legit believe this is what love feels like. But their version of love? It’s nowhere near healthy. It’s suffocating, built on possession and this obsessive need to have the reader rather than actually supporting or understanding them. The whole dynamic is super toxic. Satoru and Suguru on their own? They never really could click (Awful at communication). They were always missing that bridge to hold them together—and that’s where the reader comes in. But instead of just letting things naturally work, they basically force the reader into their lives, shaping them to fit their desires and deepen their bond with each other.

Suguru didn’t even think he’d love the reader at first. In the beginning, it was all part of the long game (getting Satoru to kill the higher ups or convincing him to defect). I mean, his daughters were executed just so he could crawl back into jujutsu society (thanks to the higher-ups, who basically had him "finish" the mission of the night he defected). So, at first, Suguru was just talking to Satoru, saying he couldn’t understand how he could date a non-sorcerer, blah blah blah. Then Satoru invited him into the relationship. Suguru figured, why not use this as a way to make the reader’s life hell? He couldn’t wipe out all non-sorcerers, but he could make their life miserable while getting his boyfriend back.

But then… he started to fall for them—or at least, his version of love. Over the years, though, he’s gotta remind himself at night that he does love them. His love is all about manipulation and control. He’s sneaky about it, isolating the reader emotionally and planting little seeds of guilt and doubt to make them more compliant. He’s so good at twisting things that the reader ends up questioning their own thoughts and decisions. Suguru’s "love" isn’t about genuine connection; it’s about dominance. It’s his way of keeping a piece of Satoru through the reader, not because he’s actually emotionally attached to them. Oh, he knows he can’t have kids with Satoru, so you’re spot on about the reader basically being a broodmare in his mind.

I think though once the reader pops out a few kids, he does grow to love them, especially if they produce sorcerers for him. So good luck ever trying to leave the clan estate, because when he does actually love he's literally insane (the type of insane to clip your Achilles tendon, not permanent but may affect your walking ability)

Satoru, on the other hand, does love the reader—but in this super selfish, messed-up way. Originally, they were just a rebound for him. (In part one, the reader had met Suguru before and had a tiny crush on him—it’s mentioned briefly.) When Satoru should’ve been working on himself, maybe going to therapy or dealing with his issues? Nah, he was pouring all that emotional baggage into the reader instead. His love is intensely possessive. To him, the reader isn’t their own person—they’re more like an extension of himself, someone who exists to make him feel better and meet his emotional needs.

This whole thing started way before Suguru joined the picture. The reader actually almost left Satoru once, and honestly? They probably should’ve, probably would have had a better ending. But Satoru used his charm and playful personality to reel them back in, all while hiding this super manipulative streak. And yeah, he cares about them—like, when the reader ran away, this man was ready to hollow-purple the entire airport. Suguru had to step in and talk him down, suggesting they go back to the clan estate instead. But at the end of the day, Satoru’s love is still selfish. It’s all about making himself happy and avoiding his own pain, with the reader’s needs coming in second—if at all.

And just for fun, I don’t think the reader even understood what love was. That’s the thing with a lot of people who end up in toxic relationships like this—they convince themselves that this is the love they deserve. So, while the reader is being manipulated and undermined, she has to keep telling herself, “This is love.” She’s not being openly abused—she’s still allowed to go to school (a little ounce of freedom), and it’s not like they’re yelling at her or anything. Arguments would’ve been relatively calm, with Suguru usually taking the lead and doing most of the talking.

Because of all that, the reader may be confusing dependency for love. She relies on Satoru and Suguru for financial support, for safety (even if it’s a twisted kind of safety), and for emotional stability. In her mind, she’s thinking, “This is a good relationship.” That’s why it was so hard for her to leave, even when she had a real shot at it. She keeps justifying staying by focusing on the good times instead of the bad ones. It’s less about actually feeling love and more about clinging to the idea of it.

So, in summary: Do they love the reader?

Yeah… but it’s not the good kind of love. Like most toxic relationships, their love is super conditional and unhealthy. It’s not about the reader’s happiness, growth, or well-being—it’s about how the reader fits into their lives and fulfills their needs. To them, this is love, but it’s a love that lacks a lot of fundamentals like respect, freedom, and equality.

Sorry! I rambled quite a bit lol

[gothamite-rambler]

Talia unintentionally overstepping Barbara's boundaries (sneak peek for AO3)

Context: While out shopping Barbara was kidnapped by Talia Al Ghul's men and taken to where the Lazarus pit is. Talia says it's a fun girl's trip, but Babs knows the side effects of the pit and is not about to be pushed in.

Barbara (stopping her wheelchair before Talia could roll her to the Lazarus pit room): I'm not going in there.

Talia: Why would you pass up this offer?

Barbara (arms crossed): Jason Todd, you, Ra's Al Ghul, and that one time you put Bruce into a coma and tossed him in, assuming you could convince him to love you. And what happened after that?

Talia: We… both went insane, and I almost killed our tifl. But that's in the past, he's better now, I'm sane now.

Ra's (smoking): Never got my thanks for that.

Talia: Father! - Look, Barbara I'm not even killing you—just pushing your chair into the pit.

Barbara: I'm good. I'd rather get robot legs than end up in the pit.

Ra's Al Ghul (siding with Barbara): Contact me if you want me to set you up with that, but she still said no fifty times, Talia! Can you send her away already?

Talia: Father, stay out of this! Barbara, think about what regaining the ability to walk would do for you. You could finally be with Nightwing.

Barbara (grossed out): Oh God, why would you wish that upon me?! We're not like that anymore!

Talia: Seriously?

Ra's: He's with the orange woman now.

Talia: Aww, I was secretly rooting for you two.

Barbara (glaring at Talia): I'm definitely not going in there now. You're not about to insult me and then push me into green slime.

Talia (in denial): You know what? You need some time to think this over and agree to it. I’ll leave you here in this gorgeous tea room and return in twenty minutes. I know you’ll make the right decision. Father, keep watch of her.

Talia exited with a graceful stride, not allowing Barbara to get a word in or continue to refuse her offer. Ra's pulled out his cell phone and handed her an older-looking iPhone.

Ra's: His number is in this phone; he’s labeled "Ahbil."

Barbara nodded, took the phone, and hit the button to contact Bruce's number. Bruce reluctantly answered the unknown call, as his night job often led to strange calls like this.

Barbara: Hey… Bruce, it's Oracle.

Ra's: We don’t need to go by codenames; I know your name is Barbara.

Barbara: Private call, Ra's!

Bruce (confused): Why are you calling me from an unknown number?

Barbara: Talia kidnapped me and is offering to push me into the pit so it can 'fix' my disability, and when I say "offering," I mean she will not let me leave until I agree to it.

Bruce (shocked): What?

Barbara: Yeah. She said I’d be fine, which is a crock of bullshit. I've seen what the pit does to people; Jason has told me. I made it clear I’m not doing that. She said I have no choice unless you come to save me.

Bruce: She said I… And you’re stuck there—God damn it, Jim is going to kill me!

Barbara: Yeah, he might actually shoot you if I end up going crazy, or at least arrest you. She’s not stating it, but this seems to be a mix of good intentions with bad thinking, and she wants you back. Think you can be here soon?

Bruce: Yeah. I’ll text everyone and we’ll be headed there in a few hours. Tell her I’ll be there and that you won’t be wheeled to the pit until we get there. Do everything you can to avoid being pushed in!

Barbara: I will try my best; the mad king next to me is actually on my side with leaving, so he might be able to help.

Ra's: I’m… going to let that one slide because you called me king.

Bruce: I have to deal with Ra's—that just dawned on me. This is ridiculous, but you're my friend, and Jim will kill me if I mess this up. That guy sees me as his friend, and I can’t lose that!

Barbara (chuckling): Men and their weird friendships. Just hurry up.

Bruce agreed and ended the call while Ra's poured himself and Barbara some tea.

Ra's: He’s coming?

Barbara: Yes… your daughter is thirsty for a man who doesn't want her. She’s intelligent and all that, decent mom, but she is thirsty.

Ra's (agreeing): I have no idea where this insanity came from.

Ra's coughed from years of exposure to the pit as Barbara rolled her eyes.

[thesummerstorms]

The other thing that I think I would want in an Annabeth Wayne AU that I don't think I've seen so far is Bruce being absolutely pissed at Athena.

It was bad enough with Talia and Damian, but Athena is a literal god of wisdom who should know better AND he doesn't even have the "culpability" of having slept with her.

She one hundred percent saw Batman, tactician of the Justice League, was drawn in by her aspect of the Goddess of Strategy, and proceeded to create a child without his consent, a daughter who she didn't even raise before the child became a weapon.

And like whatever else, however fucked up Damian was by his own training to become a child-weapon, at least Talia loved Damian.

Whereas Athena loves Annabeth in the way a Goddess loves, not the way a Person loves, and I don't think Bruce, whose entire identity is so fixated on his relationship with his own parents, would recognize that as love at all.

And, like, Talia put Damian through a lot of shit. I think Bruce would be angry there too. But when push came to shove, she at least at some point brought him to Bruce because she thought it was in her son's best interests.

Athena actively lead Annabeth away from Bruce and into the streets at the age of seven, which Bruce would never see as in her best interest, whatever Athena's godly perspective is, however badly he reacted after Jason's death, even though he couldn't see (and dismissed the idea of) the spiders and the monsters. She was seven. In the streets of Gotham.

Athena let Annabeth fight a major role in two wars back to back without being there to train her or protect her or love her or even advise her. Athena advocated for the cold blooded murder of the other children who had actually tried to keep his daughter safe. Athena sent Annabeth against Arachne when Athena's children have universally died on that quest for a thousand years.

Athena let Bruce think he had gotten Annabeth killed because of his own inability to handle his grief. Let him think his daughter was dead or worse for years. Would have let him keep thinking that if the Fates didn't have other plans.

And just, in true fashion for all of my ideas on a PJO x DC crossover, everyone really comes out more traumatized than before. This includes Bruce.

Because now he wasn't just used unknowingly for a child just once, but twice. And in both cases he's going to have to live forever with the guilt of not having been able to protect his kids from what their other parent wanted to make of them

(On top of all the ways he has directly failed them and made any complexes worse, of course )

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

not me thinking about how just bc i can’t write for rodrigue week, bc first i had covid and then i had a biopsy and now i have to wait for my elbow/arm to heal,

doesn’t mean i can’t just integrate something for him into miklan weekend

[cuteniarose]

It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

[radiaking]

Don’t ever let coop convince u otherwise, he is def a ‘it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’ mfer

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[tender-rosiey]

Hi. This is my first time writing arequest so i dont really know what im doing but i love your husband sukuna series and i wanna ask for a husband sukuna with a shy baby daughter bc your sukuna is 🤌

reluctance — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works <33 hope this one is to your liking as well MWUAH 🫶

“come on, d/n,” you coax gently.

your daughter, barely two years old, shakes her head from behind your legs, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your kimono as she hides from the imposing figure of her father.

sukuna stands at the doorway, his arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.

“she’s still hiding?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, his deep voice filling the room, though it isn’t harsh.

you kneel, gently petting your daughter’s head, “she’s shy. you know how she gets when you’re around.”

sukuna exhales slowly. he observes your daughter quietly. wide-eyed but cautious, her tiny fingers tightening their grip on you. your daughter was notably quite soft.

it didn’t help that her father, sukuna, didn’t exactly have the most inviting presence.

“come here,” he says, his tone gruff, holding out a hand.

the little girl hesitates, her bottom lip trembling slightly. you place a reassuring hand on her back and whisper softly, “it’s okay” you smile, “that’s your dad; he won’t hurt you.”

at your words, sukuna looks down at your daughter, his daughter.

she looks up at you, then back at sukuna. with the smallest shuffle, she takes one step toward him then sees him quirk an eyebrow which makes her quickly retreat, still unsure.

sukuna clicks his tongue, while you giggle. your daughter clings harder onto you at the sound of his disapproval.

“she sure is jumpy,” he says, stretched hand moving to rest on his hips, “how the hell is that my daughter?”

“ever studied biology?”

“do not get smart with me,” he warns, but his threats have long lost their effect on you.

the little interaction gives your daughter a sense of familiarity, seeing you talk so easily with him. with some courage finally mustered, your daughter blinks up at sukuna, her small voice barely audible as she mumbles, “papa...?”

sukuna’s sharp gaze relaxes just the faintest bit at the sound of her voice, “yes. I’m right here.”

she stares for another moment, before she toddles over to him. she stumbles and holds desperately onto his legs. she looks up at him, and he gives her no reaction.

your daughter takes that as a good sign, and she looks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“there you go,” you laugh, standing up. “see? not so bad.”

sukuna looks at your daughter, then back at you, “you coddle her too much.”

you fold your arms with a playful smirk, “she’s two. she’s allowed to be coddled a little.”

“she’ll be stronger if she learns early.” sukuna’s voice is firm. she is clinging to him now, a little less hesitant as she begins to tug at his kimono.

she lets out small mumbles as she tries to gain his attention.

"uh-huh, sure," you tease, stepping closer and placing your hand on his forearm, "you’re so tough, honey. maybe we should get her a little curse to toughen her up. would that make you happy?"

he scoffs but doesn’t answer, his attention flicking back to the girl holding onto him. you could see the faintest hint of something in his expression, though it wasn’t something he would ever acknowledge verbally.

for some reason, the scene of his daughter faced with a curse, at least in this age, doesn’t particularly please him.

her eyes are soft. her entire being is. there is no way that she would survive, and knowing his little daughter, she will burst into tears the moment the curse appears. that conclusion makes him think.

he stays silent, before he finally mutters, "never mind. she's fine the way she is.”

you beam at his words and pull his face down to place a kiss on his cheek, “aww, you are going soft, yay!”

“I will kill you,” he sneers, but then he feels his daughter raise her arms. he looks down at her with a scowl, “what do you want, you brat?”

the tone makes her flinch back, but then she tightens her fist and stutters, “u-up!”

“you and your mother are insolent,” he side-eyes you, and you raise your hands in surrender. his eyes flick back to her, “you ordering me around?”

her eyes start to water, but she tries to persevere, “up…?”

your husband groans and bends down to pick her up. the way he gives into her demands is sweet in its own way.

it would make you laugh, if he didn’t pick you up in process which instead makes you gasp. now, both you and your daughter are carried—effortlessly—in his arms.

you smile widely at your husband, while he avoids looking at you. sukuna instead looks at you daughter. he then asks, “are you happy now?”

your daughter stares silently at him, and he stares at her back. in the midst all this staring, your daughter realizes something: her dad has a second face.

her lips start quivering, and she raises her hands to cover her face as she starts bawling and wailing

“ugh, why is she crying now?” your husband groans, irked by the sudden loud noise.

“your face probably scares her.”

“I hate kids.”

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[entitled-fangirl]

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

.......................................................

Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage. 

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!" 

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense. 

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena. 

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words. 

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground. 

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall. 

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands. 

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded. 

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand. 

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted. 

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right. 

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings. 

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena. 

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes. 

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester. 

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle. 

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders. 

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor. 

Nothing could ease his worries. 

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side. 

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him. 

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over. 

"It hurts… please, Cregan…" 

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked. 

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him. 

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime. 

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white. 

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied. 

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to. 

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride. 

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

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